Abyssinia: A Strange, Dusty Window Into Another Time

I don't know who needs to hear this, but Abyssinia isn't really a 'movie' in the way we usually talk about them. There's no dramatic arc, no big reveal, and honestly, the editing feels like someone just sort of laid the reels out on a table and picked them up in a random order. 🏜️

You just kind of exist inside the frame with Vladimir Yeshurin and Boris Zeitlin. It reminded me a bit of the aimless, drifting energy you find in Vagabonding on the Pacific, where the point isn't to get anywhere, but just to prove you were there at all.

There is this one shot of a hillside that goes on for way too long. The wind is whipping around, and you can see a loose thread on someone's coat flapping in the corner of the lens for like, thirty seconds straight. It drove me crazy, but then I stopped trying to make it 'mean' something. It’s just footage of a hill. It’s just wind.

It’s weirdly grounding.

The film doesn't try to impress you. It’s not trying to win an award or explain the geopolitical tension of the region. It’s just people walking around, looking at stuff, and filming it because they had a camera. It feels less like a documentary and more like finding a forgotten, slightly water-damaged journal in an attic.

Compared to something more tightly wound like The Third Degree, this thing is a total mess. But it's a charming mess. There’s a texture to the grain here that feels like it’s holding onto the actual heat of the sun. You can almost smell the dust.

Sometimes I think we watch too many movies that are screaming for our attention. Every frame is loaded with importance, every score change telling you to cry or get scared. Abyssinia just sits there. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a shrug, and honestly? We need more of that.

Don't look for a lesson. Don't look for a story. Just watch the way the light hits the rocks. That's about all you're gonna get, and for a rainy Tuesday, that’s plenty.